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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24859360">The Uneasy Confessions</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Fine_Piece/pseuds/A_Fine_Piece'>A_Fine_Piece</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>A Thin Red Line [53]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Bleach</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, Bargaining, Confessions, Diary/Journal, F/M, Family Drama, Invasion of Privacy, Kissing, Love, Love Confessions, Prostitution, Scheming, Theft, Unrequited Love</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 08:14:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,604</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24859360</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Fine_Piece/pseuds/A_Fine_Piece</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>[Set prior to the beginning of the series] Byakuya discovers his family's treachery with respect to his letters.  Hisana tries to stop a friend from reading Byakuya's personal journal.  Byakuya makes Ginrei a proposal regarding marrying Hisana.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kuchiki Byakuya/Kuchiki Hisana</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>A Thin Red Line [53]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/93946</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Uneasy Confessions</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Wordlessly, Byakuya leads the way.  His mind is buzzing.  He doesn’t know what to say, which words to string together to create the incantation to make this right.  A sinking feeling tells him that there is no quick solution, no balm to the offense his family has wrought.</p><p>He rejects this thought. </p><p>Time is of the essence, with Hisana set to begin her month-long service to the Chambers.  If he can’t correct all of this at once, then he’ll need to be <em>precise</em> in which wrong to redress first.  The first thing he needs her to know is that he never betrayed her trust.  To anyone.  Ever. </p><p>The letter containing her secret remains locked inside his desk.  It’s a well-loved treasure, frayed from over-reading, each brushstroke memorized, each word etched into his heart.  He can recite the entire letter verbatim because he has read it so many times.  So, if someone in his family did find it and read it, it was surely <em>before </em>he received it. </p><p>This thought alone raises so many questions in his mind.  Painful, hurtful questions.  He feels invaded.  His dignity, privacy, and faith shredded.</p><p>Had they devoured all of his letters.  To her?  To others?  Had any of his letters gone missing?  Letters that they didn’t see fit for him to read, didn’t see fit to send on his behalf. </p><p>These possibilities slit him.  The wound freshly open drips with insecurity as he begins cataloging the times when he may have judged someone too harshly for their silence.  Had unwitting silence ever forced him to cut ties he otherwise might not have?  Had it forced him on a different path, a path his family had designed for him by burning or delaying correspondence? </p><p>Rattled by the endless possibilities of his family’s duplicity, he glimpses Hisana sidelong. </p><p>She stares vacantly ahead.  The light in her eyes has squelched.  Gone are her cunning smirks and fiery glances, smothered now by remote desolation.   It’s a desolation that convinces him that she’s drawn the conclusion that he took part or, worse, <em>reveled</em> in revealing her secret to his family. </p><p>Not that he blames her.  The evidence is <em>damning</em>, and he has heard tell of more than one young nobleman who delighted in leading on Rukon girls only to dash their happiness violently to the ridicule of contemporaries.</p><p>He would never do such a thing.  Never intentionally.  She must know this, he thinks.  One look, however, sends that hope to a fresh grave. </p><p>She refuses his glances.  Even when he reaches for the threads of her reiatsu, she denies him.  So tightly bound inside of herself, she hides from him.  Cold to his efforts.</p><p>Caught up in how to navigate the yawning emotional distance between them, Byakuya mindlessly leads Hisana and her courtesan friend to his bedroom.  When he realizes this, it’s too late; they’ve all stopped at his door.  </p><p>The other courtesan flings open the door and is a foot over the threshold before tossing a hasty word of gratitude his direction.</p><p>He can’t let Hisana slip away without knowing.  If she leaves for her service at the Chambers without him saying a word of it, he fears—no, <em>knows—</em>she will spend the month fomenting an icy indifference or, worse, a violent hatred of him.</p><p>“May I have a moment?” he asks, his stare trapping Hisana.</p><p>The silks of her kimono flutter in such a way that he can’t help but wonder if she is trembling.  She lowers her head and exchanges a quiet look with the other courtesan, who lingers, stalwart. </p><p>“It’s okay, Okuni,” Hisana murmurs softly.</p><p>The other woman doesn’t appear <em>convinced</em>.  Her bright eyes tear into Byakuya, but he ignores it.  The air is charged as she lingers in the doorway, but she yields after a pregnant pause. </p><p>With a nodding glance, she steps inside and closes the door behind her. </p><p>“I didn’t betray your confidence,” the words come out fast, colliding and tangling mid-air.</p><p>He wants to touch Hisana, to tether her to him, but he doesn’t.  There is a remoteness to her expression, as if a piece of her is somewhere else.  Somewhere very far from him and <em>this</em>.</p><p>“I would have never done such a thing,” he continues, words stopping only when she shakes her head.</p><p>“How am I to believe that?  How else would Lady Kuchiki have known to tell that story?  She watched me the entire time.  She knew what she was doing.”</p><p>“You must trust me.”  Desperation braids his voice.</p><p>A line forms between her brows, “Trust you?” the question is accusatory.  “Trust you?” she repeats it, as if she can hardly believe his reply, “after what I’ve witnessed of your dealings with other women?  With Lady Niwa?”</p><p>Byakuya grimaces, and his eyes squeeze shut.  She <em>isn’t</em> wrong.  He had been reckless, even cruel, at times with others once they fell short of his expectations.</p><p>Feeling her shift away, Byakuya reaches out.  His hand falls featherlight across the curve of her shoulder, but it is enough to stay her. </p><p>“How could I have been so stupid to think I wouldn’t suffer a similar fate?” she asks.  “How am I any different than Lady Niwa?”</p><p>He tips his head closer, his fingers sink deeper into the silks of her kimono, and he replies in a whispered confession, “Because I didn’t love Lady Niwa.”</p><p>Her breath catches in the hollow of her throat, and, for a flash, he thinks she has understood his meaning.  It’s only a flash, though.  As soon as recognition lights in her eyes, it dims. </p><p>“Trust me,” he tries again.  He intends the words to be a statement, a command, but they sound as frail as hope, coming out as a question instead. </p><p>Her chin pulls down, and her eyes fall to the inky darkness of the shadows lapping at their feet.  She stares with the intensity of someone solving a complex equation.  The solution doesn’t appear to be an easy one for her to accept, but she consents with the smallest of nods.</p><p>“Lord Kuchiki?”  The sound of an unexpected woman’s voice pries Hisana away.  She reaches for the door.</p><p>His heart drops.  Frustration comes next.  He was so close.  He needed only a few more moments.  A few more fleeting moments.    </p><p>“What is it?” he snaps demandingly, turning to the intrusion standing in the corridor.</p><p>It’s Suiko.  She looks on meekly.  Nervously, her hands lace in a knot in front of her thighs.  She doesn’t answer for a long stretch, choosing instead to blanch under the heat of his glare.  “Your grandfather sent me to inform you that he and Lady Miyako are ready to leave,” she answers finally, as if remembering how to speak. </p><p>It had to be Suiko.  Maybe his grandfather sent her to fetch him as another test.  Watching her, Byakuya thinks he passed it, if so.  She could not have seen much.</p><p>Byakuya turns to Hisana.  His jaw clenches, and he bows his head. </p><p>She reciprocates his gesture.  “Good evening, Lord Kuchiki.”</p><p>“Hisana,” he says her name.  A bubble of the words left unsaid weigh uncomfortably in his chest, but he hasn’t the time. </p><p>He leaves her, alone, in that quiet corridor.</p><p>. . . .</p><p>Hisana opens the door and slips inside.  She doesn’t know what to think about Lord Byakuya’s defense of ignorance.  Part of her sincerely wants to believe him, but she is beginning to fear this part of her.  This stupid, hopeful part of her. </p><p>When she finds Okuni in the cavernous room, her heart stops.  Cold.  All of her fears break apart at the discovery, transforming into something that doesn’t sting her pride as much but that is no less dreadful.</p><p>“What are you doing?” Hisana demands, head tilting to the side.  Her gaze fastens to Okuni, who <em>presides </em>over what appears to be <em>Lord Byakuya Kuchiki’s desk</em> with such authority, Hisana wonders if Okuni has been secretly anointed Mistress of the Manor. </p><p>Caught between Okuni’s hands is a small black leather-bound book that she is reading with great amusement.</p><p>“Reading,” Okuni replies, a devilish smile curving her lips.</p><p>“<em>What</em> are you reading?”</p><p>“A book, of sorts.”</p><p>“<em>Of sorts</em>?” repeats Hisana. </p><p>“It’s not really fit to publish.”</p><p>Hisana scowls.  “Is that Lord Byakuya’s <em>journal</em>?”</p><p>Okuni’s smile only widens.  “<em>Maybe</em>.”</p><p>“Put it down.”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Put it down.”</p><p>“Why?” Okuni whines.</p><p>“Because it’s an invasion of privacy.”</p><p>Okuni is not amused.  “After his family’s performance tonight, you’re still defending him?  I thought their cruelness would’ve killed any lingering affection stone dead.”</p><p>“Okuni,” Hisana hugs her chest, brows knit, “it’s wrong.  Put it away.”</p><p>“Come on,” Okuni says, voice sing-song, “it’s so <em>interesting</em>.  Don’t you want to know what he really thinks about you?”</p><p>“I doubt that—with all his responsibilities and duties—he gives much consideration to me.”</p><p>“I mean, yes, there are a lot of long stretches of <em>boring</em> thoughts on Squad 6, his training, his zanpakutō, and <em>calligraphy</em>.”  Her lips twist around the last word.  “But the family <em>drama</em> is <em>delicious</em>,” she teases, her bright eyes reflect the fieriness of the lantern light set on the desk, “and his thoughts on you take up a fair amount of ink.”</p><p>Hisana’s brows lower over narrowed eyes.  She’s going to have to be more <em>direct.</em> Inching to the desk, she tries her best to <em>loom</em> over Okuni. Her hands are on her hips, her chest is puffed out, and she is wearing her best <em>glower</em>-<em>face</em>.</p><p>Okuni, however, doesn’t give Hisana a second glance.  She further punctuates this fact with a dramatic flipping of the page. </p><p>Hisana’s arm shoots out.  Her fingertips are a hairsbreadth from the journal before Okuni rips it away.  With a smug glance, Okuni holds the book just beyond Hisana’s reach.  Her eyes, however, remain glued to the page she had been reading prior to Hisana’s unsuccessful grab.</p><p>“Like here’s something interesting:  You spilled noodles on the poor man?  Terrible manners, Hisana!” Okuni <em>cackles</em>.</p><p>Hisana’s face flushes.  “He mentioned that?  In his journal?”  That had to have been six years ago.  She had long buried that horrific memory.</p><p>“Yeah.  He says, ‘Today has gone poorly in every regard and ended in humiliation.’”</p><p>“Okuni,” says Hisana warningly, pawing at the book, “stop it.”</p><p>“Listen to this part: ‘Hisana, who is usually careful in all things, sets out a bowl of udon, promising it will help with my cold.  When she pours the tea, she knocks the bowl and its steaming contents onto my lap—’”</p><p>“Okuni!” Hisana tries with more force, her embarrassment rising.</p><p>“Here’s where things get slightly more <em>anatomical</em>.”</p><p>“Anatomical?” Hisana parrots the word back.  It feels profane in her mouth.</p><p>Okuni smirks.  “Seems pretty anatomical, the way you helped clean him up, and, I quote, ‘recoiled in disgust,’” she <em>sings</em> as she reads the line.</p><p>Hisana stands aghast at the description, her cheeks burning when she fully understands which part of the male anatomy to which Okuni refers.  “What?  I didn’t—I—I—had <em>no idea</em>.  I was just <em>embarrassed</em> that I dumped the bowl onto his lap!”</p><p>“Wait,” Okuni’s thin brows pull together, attention absorbed in the pages, “you hadn’t been intimate by then?”</p><p>“Close the journal.”</p><p>“So four years in, and no sex?”</p><p>“Close it.”</p><p>Okuni gasps in mock indignation.  “Have you ever?”  The thought grips her with such intensity that she lets the cover of the journal fall shut over her thumb.  “Tell me that you’ve—at least---once?”  Her jaw drops.</p><p>Hisana stares at her friend, heat stinging her cheeks.  “I mean—I mean—” her gaze trails to the door, as if she’s worried someone may be listening to their conversation.</p><p>“I hate you a little.  You have the best-looking patron, and he is clearly mooning over you and your purported rejection of his <em>anatomy</em>, and never once he forces intimacy?”</p><p>“Shut the <em>damned</em> journal,” Hisana pleads.</p><p>“Fine, just give me <em>a minute</em>.  I need to find the part where he proceeds to go through most of the eligible highborn women and delights in their dashed hopes of becoming his <em>Lady</em>.”</p><p>“You’re being excessive.”</p><p>Okuni shoots Hisana a knowing look.  “You know he did that, right?” her voice lowers, conspiratorially, as she says the words.</p><p>“I know about Lady Niwa, yes.”</p><p>Okuni’s brows climb.  “There were more than <em>just </em>Lady Niwa.  She was just the most <em>egregious </em>example, dissolving their connection during a dinner where her family had hoped to seal the deal on the union between the two houses.”  Okuni lets out a harsh chuckle.  “I wish I had been there to see the hurt on her face when the realization sank in that she was not the one for him.”  Schadenfreude thins Okuni’s lips into a sharp, jagged grin.</p><p>Hisana stares at her friend.  Wordless. </p><p>“You didn’t know about the others, though?”  Okuni begins again, the dark menace from her face clearing. “Oh, yes.  The stories were a delightful diversion for a time.  If I could have sipped from the cup of collective tears cried after he plumbed the depths of eligible hopefuls and cast them aside, I might’ve achieved immortality.”</p><p>“More like <em>immorality</em>.”</p><p>“Oh, don’t feel too bad for the ladies, Hisana.  Their intentions weren’t pure, either.  They were all vying for the title of Lady Kuchiki.  He probably knew that and had some fun with it.”</p><p>“Don’t,” Hisana says, eyes locked on the journal.  “Just, please, as a friend, <em>stop</em>.”</p><p>Okuni deflates a little, letting the cover shut over her index finger.  “You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”</p><p>Hisana snaps back a pace.  Cautiously, she watches Okuni, who examines her with the wily eye of a prospector.  “No,” Hisana says weakly.</p><p>“That ‘<em>no’</em> sounds more like a, ‘<em>I don’t know</em>,’ or a, <em>‘I won’t admit it.’</em>”</p><p>Besotted?  Yes.  Attracted to?  Yes.  But, love?  Her heart trembles at the thought.</p><p>“I don’t love him.” </p><p>Okuni flips open the journal to the place where her finger rests.  “Then, you shouldn’t mind if I read this gem aloud—”</p><p>“Stop it!”</p><p>Okuni lifts her head, pinning Hisana with a wolfish look.  “Are you afraid of what you might hear?”</p><p>“It’s improper.”</p><p>“After what his family put you through tonight?  That story,” she pauses, giving Hisana a conciliatory look, “I don’t know the history there, and you don’t have to tell me, but I could tell that awful story his aunt told broke your heart.”</p><p>Hisana averts her gaze to the floor.  Defeat crashes over her.  She’s just an Inuzuri dog, she thinks.  Loyal despite all reason.</p><p>“Then, there was the shamisen ordeal.  The countless barbed comments and insults.  Tonight was truly a death by a thousand cuts.  And, yet, you refuse to take this little piece for yourself.  This little revenge.”  Okuni pauses, deepening her gaze.  “That’s <em>love</em>.”</p><p>“It’s loyalty.”</p><p>“Is there a difference?”</p><p>“Yes.  I can’t love him because no matter what I do, I will always be in his debt.  He is my better in every possible way, capable of bestowing upon me affection in ways I can barely fathom.  And me?  A poor girl.  Little more than a <em>slave</em>.  Love between us will quickly become an arrearage that I will never be able to repay.  It’ll be no different than my current position, trying to chip away at the insurmountable debt on Peony House ledgers.”</p><p>“That’s not how Byakuya sees it.  At least, not according to his <em>journal</em>.”  Frowning, Okuni closes the book.  “You give him something that money can’t buy.  You give him happiness.  Men pay us dearly for its approximation.”  Setting the book in a desk drawer and pushing it shut, Okuni glances up at Hisana and adds, “You should allow yourself some happiness, too.”</p><p>Hisana opens her mouth in protest, but she doesn’t.  Okuni isn’t wrong.  She feels more than just loyalty toward Lord Byakuya, which makes what happened tonight all the more gut-wrenching.</p><p>“I just—” Hisana begins only to be interrupted by a crack of knuckle against the wood of the door. </p><p>She turns to find a dark silhouette of a man seeping through the shoji.   “Miss Okuni?” he calls.</p><p>It’s an attendant.</p><p>“Yes?” replies Okuni. </p><p>“Lord Heishi requests your presence.”</p><p>She frowns, face dimming into an expression of resignation.  “Duty calls,” she huffs to Hisana before pulling herself to her feet. </p><p>In five paces, Okuni’s cheery bravado has melted until she crosses the floor with the force of a winter’s chill.  Stopping short of the door, Okuni glances over her shoulder and fixes Hisana with a knowing stare, “Don’t recoil next time things become a little <em>anatomical</em>,” she says drolly.</p><p>Hisana grins in response.  That grin, however, dies the moment Okuni crosses into the hallway, leaving Hisana only to the company of her thoughts. Riotous thoughts.  Traitorous thoughts.  How they prick her.</p><p>What is she doing here?  Can she escape?  Maybe wondering into a flooded street with swift water wouldn’t be the worst end for her, she thinks, sweeping to one of the doors that lead into the courtyard. </p><p>Hisana can hear the pounding of raindrops against the roof of the manor, but, when she cracks open the outside door, the storm shutters have been closed, and she cannot see outside. </p><p>Glancing around the room, it dawns on her just how scandalous it is that she sits in Byakuya Kuchiki’s bedroom alone.  Everything around her is <em>his</em>.  Distinctly his.  The sweet hint of cherry blossoms that carries on the air.  The clean, zen minimalism.  The only pieces of art he allows himself are his finely made desk and his very comfortable-looking bedding.</p><p>Part of her wants to collapse in his bed, in a messy heap.  It’s an idea she flirts with, drawing closer to the futon with its sumptuous pale blue linens.  Reflexively, she kneels beside the bed.  Her palms explore the softness of the fabrics.  They feel cool, inviting against her skin, wicking away the lingering traces of summer heat. </p><p>Hisana closes her eyes and inhales a deep breath.  The comforting fragrance of cherry blossoms invades her, numbing her anxiety until all that remains is a heavy lethargy.  Her eyelids droop down, her thoughts come slow, like honey, and her body aches for the respite of a plush bed.   Like the one she is a moment away from collapsing into. </p><p>But, she can’t.  Her restraints buckle at the thought of peeling back the layers of comfort and submitting.  It feels <em>wrong</em>, like Okuni reading from his journal <em>wrong</em>.  It feels prying, invasive. </p><p>She also considers the non-zero chance that, if she dives into that bed, some faceless Kuchiki phantom might <em>strangle </em>her in her sleep.</p><p>With that thought, Hisana resolves to stay awake. </p><p>It takes some energy, but she drags her tired, angry body up.  Her spine protests with a <em>crack</em> of pain.  Hisana ignores it as she forces herself to the door that Okuni had exited through.  Leaden and numb, Hisana slides the door open and pokes her head out.  The hall is clear.  Not a sound to be heard in the distance. </p><p>Her feet know the way once she steps over the threshold. It’s a short walk to Lord Byakuya’s personal library.  Once securely inside the room, Hisana does not feel a pang of regret when she takes her fill of happiness at staring into that lovely fusuma painting.</p><p>. . . .</p><p>Byakuya stares mindlessly into the shadows flickering across the incident report.  He has been working on this report for the last hour, not having made it past the first sentence.  His thoughts come slow when they come at all, and his mind feels cottony from exhaustion. </p><p><em>‘The hollow began its assault on its target,’</em> the first line reads.  Nearly every accident report begins similarly and contains nearly the same ingredients: a hollow targeting a plus and a green Shinigami who hasn’t the first idea of how to control either.    </p><p>Byakuya knows this report isn’t going to be any different, raising the temptation to mindlessly sign off on it and the accompanying corrective action plan. He doesn’t though.  He takes his duties seriously enough as Vice Captain. </p><p>After the tenth re-read of the first sentence, Byakuya’s attention drifts to the sounds of raindrops pelting the roof.  Except . . . he hears <em>nothing</em>. </p><p>The rain has stopped. </p><p>This realization drives Byakuya to his feet, feet that carry him to the door leading into the training yard of the Sixth.  He pulls back the door and stares into the bright indigoes of an eager morning chewing at the horizon.  The air is heavy with dampness, and the scent of summer rain thickly lingers. </p><p>Reflexively, he eyes Senbonzakura, which is set lovingly by his desk.  Training, while tempting, seems imprudent given his inability to concentrate or focus in his present state of exhaustion. </p><p>“Byakuya.”</p><p>Startled, Byakuya turns to the sound of his name, finding Grandfather standing in the doorway. </p><p>“Tea.”</p><p>Byakuya braces a shoulder against the wood of the doorframe, attention returning to the training yard.  He shakes his head.  After last night, he isn’t eager to revisit the wounds his family has inflicted.</p><p>“It wasn’t a request,” Grandfather says, iron blading his voice.</p><p>Byakuya closes his eyes and drags himself from the sweet summer breeze tugging at his sleeve.  He retracts inside his office and follows Grandfather into the captain’s office, where tea has been set on the desk.</p><p>“Paperwork for the marriage,” Grandfather says, nodding to a small stack of parchment bundled together with a red string.  “The Heishi family was pleased with the event last night.”</p><p>Byakuya ignores the paperwork, his whole body inching away from it, creating as much physical and mental distance from the obligation as he can muster. </p><p>“Hisana apparently convinced the ladies that your relationship is merely courtly affection, which seemed to pacify Suiko,” continues Grandfather, swirling the tea in his cup before taking a sip.  “At least until your <em>outburst </em>later in the evening.”</p><p>Staring into the murky green tea water, Byakuya frowns bitterly and sets the cup on the desk.   “Putting Hisana through that disgraceful performance—” he begins in his haughtiest tenor, only to be quickly cut off.</p><p>“What do you think Hisana’s life will be like in our family?”  Grandfather observes him with a curious glance.  “Do you think it will be an easy adjustment for her?  She has no influence, no family, no wealth, and no currency other than her charms and the romantic entanglements of a few powerful men.  Romantic entanglements, mind you, that will surely turn on her if she were ever forced to make a selection among those men that led to any permanence.  So, her only protection is, what?  She’s steadfast in her grace and weathers meritless censure better than most?”</p><p>“I would protect her—”</p><p>“Really?”  Grandfather’s head tilts slightly at this observation, as if he’s caught Byakuya in a snare.  “Like you protected her last night against the machinations of Masuyo?”</p><p>“An unfair characterization,” Byakuya protests.  “You made it clear that last night was a test.  I would’ve settled the score against Auntie had I not been restrained.”</p><p>“Do you not understand?” Grandfather scoffs, “<em>Every night</em> with Hisana will be a <em>test</em>.  A test of your sanity, of your relationship, of your affection toward another.  Love is a frail thing, Byakuya.  Unlike a diamond, it does not harden under pressure.  It dissolves, like quicksand.  This is why marriage is a <em>duty</em>, and <em>love</em> a pretty diversion. You cannot stabilize a House on quicksand.”</p><p>“Who in the family opposes my <em>entanglement</em> with Hisana?”</p><p>“Nearly all of the family oppose it,” Grandfather says flatly before taking another sip of tea.  “At least in the manner that you believe would bring you the most happiness.”</p><p>Byakuya’s eyes widen slightly at the implications of Grandfather’s statement.  His heart thrums a cold beat.  Had they discussed the option of him taking her as his wife?  Who would’ve even broached the possibility? </p><p>“Then, what <em>manner</em> would the family find acceptable?” he asks, the iciness in his voice thawing.</p><p>“A third of the family prefers you to cut all ties—”</p><p>“No—”</p><p>“—the remainder would have you take her as either a concubine or continue your patronage of her as a courtesan.”</p><p>Byakuya rips his attention away from Grandfather, stare skating across the floor.  Pale golden threads of sunlight streak the hardwoods, drawing his gaze to the open door.  Morning cracks the night sky, but just barely.</p><p>“Does Suiko know of this ambition?  That the family would like me to take a concubine?”</p><p>Grandfather scoffs.  “<em>Like you to take concubine</em>?  The majority of the family will <em>assent</em> to such an arrangement.  No one brought preference into it.”</p><p>“The question still stands.  How much does Suiko know of this?”</p><p>“Nothing, I suspect.  When you wed, you will spend the bulk of your time at the Sixth.  She never needs to know the difference.”</p><p>“Wouldn’t know?”  It’s Byakuya’s turn to <em>scoff</em> at the absurdity of such an arrangement.  “She wouldn’t notice when I <em>never</em> return home because I will have a wife, a wife I love, that is kept in a far-flung district?  At that point, I am no better than a Shiba.”</p><p>Grandfather watches him, eyes narrowed.  “You realize a concubine has no rights under the law, correct?  She will not be your wife.  She will have no place at your side in public, at official events, at family meetings, on <em>any </em>occassion.  Her name will not appear next to yours in any official registry.  If Hisana were to fall pregnant, assuming you would want a child born of love as your successor, then the child would be raised by your legal wife and legitimized as such.  You would do well to remember this and labor to take care of your <em>legal wife</em> if you would like any such child to thrive.”</p><p>The lines of Byakuya’s face harden at this. </p><p>“I understand you feel very passionately about this matter,” Grandfather adds, voice quiet, less forceful, “but passion is anathema to the portion of the family that would prefer your connection severed.”</p><p>“What would you advise, then?”  counters Byakuya, irritated.</p><p>“A forfeit,” says Grandfather, raising his teacup to his lips.  He takes a long sip, eyes lingering on his tea when he adds, “Tadahiro told me that he plans to make Hisana an offer to be his concubine when she returns from service at the Chambers.  His family believes her demonstrated shrewdness would be a useful asset, given that Lady Konoe is currently too infirm to handle the House’s internal financial matters.” </p><p>The words hit Byakuya with the force of an axe to the chest.  “What?” he asks, feeling as if he has just stepped outside of his own body.</p><p>“He offers her a better life than her current state or the one you could offer.  By all accounts, Tadahiro is as fond of her as you are, and she will be given a role in the family built upon <em>consensus</em>.  Her place will be secured and unquestioned.  Even the Lady has assented to the arrangement.”</p><p>Would Hisana even accept such an offer?  She hadn’t seemed keen on the idea of concubinage at his hand.  She didn’t seem keen on Tadahiro, either.</p><p>“Why would he tell you such a thing?” asks Byakuya, a cool rage flowing through him.</p><p>“You’re absolutely correct, Byakuya.  He doesn’t need to tell anyone as the Lord of one of the Five Families.  Not even Hisana.  It’s his right to purchase a life of an oiran without anyone’s input.  But, because he’s a prudent man, he informed me of this decision.  He likely doesn’t want a repeat of that dinner or to start a civil war over a woman.  He likely also wants to know what our intentions are, given your pending nuptials.”</p><p>“Wars have been waged for less,” Byakuya observes, pointedly.</p><p>Grandfather opens a drawer and fishes out a small envelope sealed with the Kuchiki crest.  “Your aunt has taken it upon herself to draft a letter on your behalf apologizing for your careless actions at the dinner and expressing your approval of Tadahiro’s proposal,” he says, offering the letter to Byakuya.  “Consider acquiescing.”</p><p>Byakuya takes it.  The weight is light, and the paper delicate.  The calligraphy is flowing, but it is a pale imitation of his own penmanship.  Without hesitation, he proceeds to rip the letter in half and then in quarters for good measure.</p><p>“Foolish pride,” Grandfather declares, setting his cup down with a frown. </p><p>“It isn’t pride,” Byakuya protests.</p><p>“<em>Love</em>, then,” Grandfather’s mouth wraps around the word, “love,” as if it has spoiled on his tongue.  “You haven’t the first idea of—”</p><p>“What if I can prove it?” Byakuya asks, voice coming quick and clipped.  “What if I prove to you that I love her?  Will you consider allowing me to take Hisana as my wife?  My <em>legal</em> and <em>only</em> wife?”</p><p>Grandfather leans back slightly, eyes widening, scowl deepening.  “Such a thing is prohibited, Byakuya.  It’s against our laws and the city’s laws for a noble to take a commoner for a spouse.”</p><p>“You permitted a variance to that law before.  For Auntie.”</p><p>“Masuyo’s circumstances were different than your own.  She wasn’t the heir to the family.  And, her marriage ended disastrously, blackening our name.”</p><p>“Typical,” Byakuya mutters under his breath, but he does not break his stare, “you’re always espousing the importance of <em>heart</em>, of requiring it to carry out one’s duties, especially the duties to the Gotei 13.  Without it, a leader is unmoored, untethered, becomes <em>unhinged</em>, just like Uncle did.  And, yet, here it is.  My heart lies with her, wants to protect her, wants to fight for her and what she represents to me.  It’s a bond, not a weakness.  Let me prove that to you.”</p><p>The iron in Grandfather’s eyes soften, and he tilts his head back slightly as he considers the proposal.  “Very well, Byakuya.  If you can prove to me that this <em>bond</em> is evidence of your heart before Hisana accepts Tadahiro’s proposal, then by all means.  I will <em>consider</em> broaching the subject with the family.  But, I will remind you of our last conversation, and those terms have not changed.  You are not allowed outside of the House unless on my word, and you will take your obligations to Suiko and her family seriously.”</p><p>Byakuya’s lips part, as if to launch another protest, but he stops short.  “A deal, then.”</p><p> </p><p>After tea with Grandfather, Byakuya retires to “bed.”  He does not specify which bed, as his Grandfather makes the clear assumption that Byakuya means his assigned bed in the barracks, and Byakuya does not want to disrupt that assumption when he takes off across the city to his quarters at the manor. </p><p>When he arrives, he half-expects to find both Hisana and her courtesan friend tucked into linens of his futon.  He is wrong.  The sheets, the covers, his entire room appears undisturbed.  Empty.  Fear coils in him.  Cold and snakelike, it writhes in his stomach.</p><p>Has he missed her?  It’s not possible, he tells himself.  It’s too early.  No one is awake at the estate.  No one will be awake to process her arrival at the Central 46 Chambers, either.  Further, he can <em>feel </em>her reiatsu.  It’s a soft flicker, repressed in sleep.</p><p>She is somewhere close, he thinks, tracing his halls to a familiar room.  A room that smells of wood and ink and old parchment.  He opens the door to find her sitting, splayed in her exhaustion, across the top of the writing desk facing the fusuma.  A book, worn from many reads and re-reads, is loosely gripped in her hand.    </p><p>It is his favorite book.  The cover is frayed, the binding is lopsided, with sections of pages threatening to spill out, and the paper is tea-stained in some places.  All his fault. </p><p>He plucks it from her hands and turns it over.  <em>The Book of Five Rings</em>.  He wonders what drew her to it, but, on inspection, he finds the answer fairly obvious:  She could tell it was his favorite by its wornness.</p><p>He returns the book to the shelf and selects another, more appropriate one, for his lady-love.  He collects her in his arms.  Her body is light and surprising pliant to his touch, and he carries her to his room, where he lays her down on the soft bedding. </p><p>He then sets out to work on the dreaded incident reports at his desk in the corner of the room.  Despite his own fatigue, he finds himself centered in his reading, able to make it through several reports and corrective action plans before his concentration abandons him at the sound of her stirring nearby.</p><p>He waits, motionless, for the sigh of the sheets or futon as she sits up.  When no such sound comes, he glances over his shoulder to find that she is sitting with her arms wreathing the tops of her knees.  She watches him serenely.</p><p>“It’s impolite to stare,” he observes, feeling the heat of her gaze against his shoulders.</p><p>“No one ever said I was polite,” she teases.</p><p>He hears the rustle of sheets against her silk kimono and cuts her a glance that she quickly returns.  “Are you hungry?” he asks.  He knows he is.  He hadn’t a chance to eat a single bite of food during the festivities last night, having suffered many well-intentioned intruders wishing him and his imminent marriage-state well.</p><p>He doubts she had a chance to eat, either.  His family being of the mind that <em>servants</em> don’t eat around betters.  Or worse, <em>commoners from the districts</em> don’t have the need to eat.  A stupid prejudice, especially in Hisana’s case.  He can feel her reiatsu just as surely as he can feel any other member of his family.  She requires sustenance and rest to the same wearying extent that they all do.</p><p>“Famished,” she admits.  “Do you want me to—”</p><p>Before she can finish the question, he is on his feet.  It’s only when he reaches for the door to summon his attendant that he realizes he hasn’t the faintest idea of <em>what Hisana likes to eat</em>. </p><p>“Apologies,” he murmurs, turning his attention to her, “I don’t recall what you like.”</p><p>“That’s because I’ve never eaten in front of you.”  She smiles at him gently.  “To do so is considered indecorous.”</p><p>He blinks, alarmed and feeling a little foolish at failing to notice this.  “I never—”</p><p>“You weren’t supposed to notice,” she says, reading his concern well.  “It’s part of the charm.”</p><p>“But, there were times when . . . .”  </p><p>Times when he stayed for most of the evening.</p><p>Hisana shakes her head.  “Don’t worry we have ways to sneak food,” she says with a wink.  “But, to your question:  I prefer things a little sweeter than you do.”</p><p>“Tea?” he asks, nerves popping in his chest.</p><p>Hisana gives a mild nod of her head, watching him with a dreamy expression.  “Do you want me to—”</p><p>He shakes his head.  “No,” he says hastily, opening the door. </p><p>He isn’t gone long, but, when he returns, he finds her tidying up his bed.  “You don’t need to trouble yourself—” he begins, but she disarms him with a sweet glance. </p><p>“No, it’s the least I can do.”  When she finishes, she turns to him and folds her hands in her lap.</p><p>He stares at her.  Suddenly feeling very unsure of himself, as if he doesn’t quite know the steps.  He has never had a woman in his bedroom at daybreak.</p><p>“May I see milord’s sword?” asks Hisana asks, voice quiet but bright.</p><p>“Of course.” Byakuya takes a hesitant step forward toward his desk before stopping short on a jerky beat. “Wait,” he says, “you mean my zanpakutō, correct?  That wasn’t a euphemism.”  Memories of their disastrous dinner crash over him as he reinterprets her request.</p><p>A wry smile splits her lips, and her eyes glow as she smothers a chuckle with the sleeve of her kimono.  “I meant Senbonzakura.  No euphemism intended.”  Her gaze shoots to the sheathed sword that leans against his desk.</p><p>He quickly retrieves the sword and offers it to her before dropping into seiza at her side.  Carefully, he watches her, heart drumming a quick, heavy beat in his chest. </p><p>She studies Senbonzakura with what appears to be great interest, beginning first with the lavender hilt-wrapping.  Her gaze then trails down to the guard, rotating the blade like it is the first time she has felt the weight of a sword.  “I read that zanpakutō have spirits that reflect their master’s soul.  Is that true?”</p><p>Byakuya nods.  </p><p>“I also read that Shinigami can communicate with their zanpakutō,” she continues, eyes tracing the contours of the white sheath. </p><p>“We can,” he responds.  “It’s important to our development as Shinigami that we commune with our zanpakutō.”</p><p>“Is Senbonzakura aware of . . . .” her lips twist before can she finish, but, when her eyes meet his, he reads the question locked in her stare.</p><p>“He knows who you are,” he answers gently.</p><p>Her eyes widen a little, and a faint blush tints her cheeks pink.  Averting her gaze to the sword resting in her lap, her lips lengthen, and a look of fondness smooths the worry-lines of her face.  “Does he . . . .”  Again, her voice trails off.</p><p>Byakuya closes his hand over hers.  “He loves you.”</p><p>“Lord Byakuya,” she says on a soft breath, cheeks aflame.</p><p>Before she can reach for another word, he stops her lips with a kiss. </p><p>. . . .</p><p>The bright yellows of morning drive Hisana into the hallway of Kuchiki manor. </p><p>Silently, she and Lord Byakuya trail behind the steward, who has been sent to collect her.  She strongly suspects he is leading her to another litter, but she does not inquire.  Instead, she lingers in the joyless quiet that falls between them.</p><p>The steward leads her to the vestibule, where both Lord Kuchiki and Lady Suiko wait.  To Hisana’s surprise, there is no sign of Okuni. </p><p>“Hisana,” Lord Kuchiki greets her with a mild glance.</p><p>Hisana bows to him first then to Lady Suiko.  “Good morning, Lord Kuchiki.  Lady Heishi.”</p><p>“Byakuya,” says Lord Kuchiki, voice dark and flat at the reception of his grandson. </p><p>“Lord Byakuya Kuchiki,” chirps Lady Suiko, who bows low upon receiving a glancing look from Lord Byakuya.</p><p>“We have procured a palanquin for you,” observes Lord Kuchiki.</p><p>“Thank you, milord.”  Hisana bows her gratitude.  “However, that won’t be necessary.  I report to the Chambers this morning.  I think the walk there will do me good.”</p><p>“In that case,” Lady Suiko says, voice soft, “would you mind the company, Miss Hisana?”</p><p>Is that even a question? Hisana wonders to herself.  It’s not as if she can deny the lady the request, and, judging by Okuni’s conspicuous absence, it also comes as no surprise.  Hisana’s been ambushed. </p><p>“Of course,” Hisana says, “it would be an honor to share the future Kuchiki Lady’s company.”</p><p>Lord Byakuya bristles beside her, an action that earns him a heated stare from Lord Kuchiki. </p><p>“Thank you.”  Lady Suiko manages a small bow.</p><p>“In that case, I will arrange an escort,” Lord Kuchiki begins, but his offer is promptly rejected by Lady Suiko.</p><p>“That’s alright, Lord Kuchiki,” she says.  Hisana can tell that she’s trying to master the tentativeness in her voice.  “I don’t think we require an escort.  It isn’t a far walk into town.”</p><p>Hisana bows politely to both Lord Kuchiki and Lord Byakuya.  “Thank you so much for your hospitality, Lord Kuchiki.  I am deeply grateful.”</p><p>Lord Kuchiki nods approvingly.</p><p>Before Hisana can slip away, however, Lord Byakuya stops her, her name on his lips.</p><p>“You forgot this,” he says, handing her a small book.</p><p>Hisana forces the confusion from her face.  “Of course,” she says, “how could I’ve forgotten?”  A lie.  She hadn’t brought a book with her, but she takes it all the same, tucking it away in her kimono.  “Thank you,” she adds and bows once more.</p><p>With that, Hisana sets out with Lady Suiko. </p><p>The morning air falls thick, and there is a chill in its current.  It plucks at Hisana through her silks, but it pales in comparison to the icy silence that engulfs her and Lady Suiko.  She doesn’t want to pry as to why the Lady asserted herself, but Hisana cannot help but intrigue as to the reasons.</p><p>Maybe Suiko discovered the true reason Hisana was invited to the party?  Maybe she saw too much when she went to fetch Lord Byakuya last night?  Maybe she wants to ask Hisana to cut ties?</p><p>“I know,” says Suiko on a broken breath.  Her voice comes out high, tremulous.</p><p>Hisana inclines her head, glimpsing the woman from the corner of her eye.  She waits.  Waits for more.</p><p>“I know,” Suiko tries again, this time speaking with more confidence, “I saw it last night.  All night.”</p><p>Hisana lowers her head.  She should feel shame, but she doesn’t.  Instead, it is a strong tide of pity that assails her.  Neither of them asked to be trapped in these circumstances.</p><p>“He looks at you like you’re breath to starved lungs,” says Suiko on a melancholic note.  “He looks at you like I wish to be looked at.”</p><p>There are no words Hisana can offer to assuage the lady, but she does give Suiko a sympathetic glance. </p><p>Suiko hugs her chest, as if she is warding away a shiver.  “When you said that you hadn’t been intimate with Lord Byakuya, you meant in the context of your service to him.”  She glances up at Hisana.  “Isn’t that right?”</p><p>Hisana nods her head.</p><p>Suiko doesn’t ask the obvious question.  Instead, she asks, “How long have you two been together?”</p><p>“I’ve served him for almost ten years.”</p><p>“How long has he—have you—have you both?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” says Hisana, heart aching in her chest.  It’s a hard truth.  She remembers the day that attraction turned to affection.  She doesn’t remember when her affection for him deepened, and she certainly can’t speak to his mind on the matter.</p><p>“My father told me last night of the arrangement that the families are considering.”  Suiko looks like she is about to retch.  Her face blanches, and her skin becomes waxen.  “The arrangement where you become Lord Byakuya’s concubine.”</p><p>Hisana watches the conflict darkening Suiko’s face.  She doesn’t know what to say, how to pacify the lady’s torment. </p><p>“Is that what you want?” asks Suiko, swallowing hard.  Her stare pins Hisana, but there is no heat to her look, only fear and anxiety.</p><p>“No,” says Hisana, voice calm and smooth.  She doesn’t think she wants to be any man’s concubine, but she knows with certainty that becoming Lord Byakuya’s concubine will begin and end in tears and broken hearts. </p><p>Suiko’s gaze flits away, and some of the color returns to her cheeks.  “Do you think Lord Byakuya wants that?”</p><p>“No,” Hisana says, this time with less confidence. </p><p>“That’s because he wants you for his wife.”  Suiko ends the statement with an upward inflection, betraying her doubt. </p><p>“I don’t know.” </p><p>“Has he ever—does he—has he ever mentioned this arrangement?  Does he ever speak of—think about—talk to you about us?”</p><p>Hisana shakes her head.  “No.  He does not speak about the marriage.” </p><p>“That’s what I thought.”  The muscles in her face tense, and her brows pull together, as if she fighting with herself as to what to say next.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” says Hisana.</p><p>Suiko shakes her head.  “No,” she says, “it’s not your fault.” </p><p>She squeezes her eyes shut, and, for a moment, Hisana thinks Suiko may be fighting back tears.  “My father has a courtesan,” she squeaks out in a tiny voice.  “I don’t think my mother minds it.  She knows and has never mentioned it, at least.  I just,” she pauses, breath jumping, “I just had hoped for better than that for myself.  I had hoped for love in marriage.  And, when my parents told me of the match with Lord Byakuya, I was so excited.  Lord Byakuya is such an accomplished member of the Gotei 13, and he is well-regarded for his intelligence, and he’s,” she stops, a fierce blush turning her face red, “he’s very handsome.”</p><p>“You think I’m foolish, don’t you?” asks Suiko.</p><p>“Not at all.  Lord Byakuya is an easy man to become enamored with.”</p><p>Suiko’s shoulders deflate a little, and she hangs her head, as if shamed.  “I really wanted to hate you,” she says, eyes timidly meeting Hisana’s gaze, “but you’re just as trapped as I am.”</p><p>Hisana doesn’t say a word.  She understands Suiko’s sentiments.  It would have been easier for Hisana, too, if Lord Byakuya’s betrothed had been wholly irredeemable, a contemptible monster.</p><p>“Part of me wants to demand that you stop seeing him,” she pauses for a moment, collecting her thoughts, “but I know that won’t work.  That won’t change his feelings, will it?”</p><p>“I can’t say.  I will be in service to the Chambers for a month,” says Hisana, offering the lady an empathetic look, “perhaps his feelings might change with my absence.”</p><p>“A month to turn his heart,” Suiko says to herself, hope bleeding from her words.  “Maybe.”  She doesn’t sound convinced of the idea.</p><p>“If his heart can be changed in a month,” Hisana begins comfortingly, “then it wasn’t love.”</p><p>“You wouldn’t hate me?” Suiko perks up at the challenge undulating between them.</p><p>A bittersweet smile thins Hisana’s lips.  “Not at all.”  Suiko will be his wife regardless.  If he can find happiness in her company, then Hisana wouldn’t dare to stand in the way. </p><p>Suiko bows deeply.  “Thank you, Miss Hisana,” she says before running back toward the estate.</p><p><em>Poor Lord Byakuya</em>, Hisana muses, watching the little dust puffs rise from the ground with each stride Suiko takes.    </p>
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